Chapter 1133: The People Heading to Talrond

The elderly man, dressed in outdated clothes, seemed to dissolve like a shadow under the sunlight as he vanished from the platform. Yet the coin in the young man’s palm still held a faint warmth. Blinking a few times, it took him several seconds to finally shake off his surprise.

He instinctively rubbed the coin between his fingers before slipping it into his pocket. As payment for a simple request for directions, this was a handsome sum—by purchasing power, it even surpassed the days when local gang leaders in the town’s alleys sold “intel” to adventurers. Thinking of that, the young man couldn’t help but click his tongue.

Adventurers, “intel,” guiding the way, and a coin as payment… Come to think of it, it did feel a little like old times.

He curled the corner of his mouth, stretched his legs that had grown stiff from lingering too long on the platform, and began walking toward the exit, where the sparse crowd was thinning out. Not far from him, a freight train, far more rugged in design than the usual passenger trains, was stationed at the cargo platform. One of the large sliding doors on the side of the carriage had already been pushed open. The loading crew, fully prepared, moved forward under the foreman’s direction to transfer the cargo onto waiting trailers.

The foreman, a burly man with a thick beard, stood beside the loading area, overseeing the operation while eyeing the uniformly sized crates. On the seals of the wooden boxes, the emblem of the Commonwealth Alliance was clearly visible.

At the North Harbor docks, Duchess Victoria of the Northern Territories stood on a platform. A fine drizzle, stirred by a gentle breeze, swirled toward her but was invisibly deflected before reaching the platform, leaving only a cold wind circling around her. She lifted her gaze, staring out at the vast, gently rolling sea beyond the docks. A dim, hazy light blanketed the ocean, shrouding the distant view in a thin veil of sea mist. Even her keen, extraordinary vision was rendered useless by the forces of nature, yet she continued to look as if she could pierce through the fog and light to see something beyond.

That was the direction where the Eternal Storm once raged—a storm that had lasted a million years without fading, a celestial marvel that blocked prying eyes. On clear days, people on the continent could see the towering wall of clouds rising from beneath the sea level, stretching skyward as if holding up the entire heavens.

But now, that once-unstoppable natural force had completely vanished. The mysterious realm behind the storm had opened its gates to the mortals of Loren Continent. Even Victoria Wilde, the “Ice and Snow Duchess,” couldn’t help but marvel at the strange twists of fate.

“The last batch of supplies has just been unloaded on the platform,” a middle-aged man’s voice suddenly came from beside her, pulling Victoria’s gaze away from the sea. “These supplies came from the Talrond Forest. Counting the shipments from yesterday and the day before, we’ve already exceeded our expected quota. Next, all that’s left is to transport them to Talrond.”

Victoria turned to see Byron standing beside her, his hair a wild mess. The Imperial Navy Marshal wore a pleased smile, his eyes admiring the sea beyond the harbor. Draped over his shoulders was a stately officer’s cloak, but he somehow wore it with the swagger of a bandit.

“The weather isn’t exactly good,” the duchess said, nodding slightly toward the overcast sky. “From my experience, you can expect a storm to hit tomorrow.”

“But our sea witch navigators swear the weather will clear up by then,” Byron shrugged. “The naga say the same.”

“…Those deep-sea creatures have a very different idea of ‘good weather’ than we land-dwellers,” Victoria frowned. “Especially the sea witches.”

“Well, then we can bet on it. I trust my navigators, you trust your experience,” Byron laughed. “How about a wager of one pound?”

“No interest,” Victoria replied casually. “I never gamble.”

Byron shrugged, clearly unamused, and turned his gaze toward the docks—not far away, six of the most advanced cargo magitech ships floated steadily like small mountains on the sea. Four of them had their hidden cargo holds open beneath the decks. Thanks to a series of mechanical devices, vast quantities of grain flowed like a river from giant trucks on the dock into the ship’s holds. Meanwhile, other loading teams busied themselves around the remaining two ships, transferring stacks of sealed wooden crates onto the decks.

The drizzle continued to fall, but a thin energy shield rose over the dock area, enveloping the entire loading zone in a protective dome. Shield generators atop reinforced concrete walls glowed faint blue. As long as they remained active, the dock would stay dry and windless.

A little farther from the cargo ships, the imposing mechanical warship Winter’s Wrath stood like a silent giant, its towering arcane wings and formidable turrets proudly raised. Two smaller, brand-new escort vessels were moored alongside, their resupply operations underway.

At the increasingly busy North Harbor, loading and resupply work went on almost nonstop, especially since summer began. The massive economic boost from the new continental trade routes had drawn every capable merchant into this grand feast. The harbor, running around the clock, had truly become a city that never slept. For many, the constant bustle of the docks was becoming routine.

But these six cargo ships were special—so special that both the Northern Duchess and the Empire’s highest naval commander had come personally to oversee the preparations. The reason was simple: these ships would break the blockade that had sealed off the mortal peoples of Loren Continent for centuries. They carried a mission of great significance, one that could be said to lay the very foundation of the Commonwealth Alliance—they were bound for Talrond.

This voyage was even more challenging than opening the continental trade routes. They would venture beyond the “Nearshore Calm Line” into the open sea, a realm traditionally known as wild, chaotic, and untamable.

“I can hardly believe we’re really going to challenge the open sea…” After a long silence, Duchess Victoria finally spoke. “And on such a large scale for the first time, with a destination that was once a legendary ‘homeland of dragons’… If someone had told me this a few years ago, I would have immediately cast ‘Idiocy Detection’ on them.”

“Such a spell exists?” Byron’s thoughts clearly ran on a different wavelength. “What use could a spell that sounds so strange possibly have?”

“It does, and it’s quite useful,” Victoria glanced at the navy marshal. “Great houses need to assess the intellectual potential of their heirs early on to avoid wasting vast resources on training. This spell is used to screen noble children under six years old. In the old days, nearly every noble family of count rank or higher used it to vet their successors.”

“…Magic really is convenient,” Byron sneered. “But it sounds pretty ruthless.”

“Indeed, it is. And this method of concentrating all resources on a handful of elites while abandoning the majority of ‘ordinary offspring’ runs counter to His Majesty’s philosophy of ‘education for all’ and ‘talent reserves,’” Victoria said expressionlessly. “But you have to admit, sometimes such effective screening methods still have their place.”

Byron shrugged and quickly lost interest in the topic. His attention returned to the upcoming voyage. After a moment’s thought, he said, “His Majesty places great importance on this expedition. It’s not just a demonstration of the Alliance’s strength and the ‘New Order,’ but also a test of all the efforts we’ve made here at North Harbor. Honestly, I’m not worried about the voyage itself, but I’m uneasy about North Harbor. This is different from our previous mission near Typhon’s coast. Once we’re far from land, all communication between the fleet and the mainland will be cut off.”

“You can trust me,” the duchess said in a low voice. “Not a single snowflake has ever fallen beyond the control of House Wilde on this land.”

Byron was silent for a moment, then nodded lightly. “…That puts my mind at ease.”

He looked out at the sea again. On his weathered face, a mixture of seriousness and anticipation slowly took shape.

He knew this would likely be the most dangerous challenge of his life—far riskier than leading comrades into ancient ruins or monster lairs. In the old days, this voyage would have been considered a suicide mission. But with the addition of naga engineers and sea witch navigators, along with their ocean-going technology, such a journey was now possible. More importantly, they would be escorted by a group of dragons. What was once a suicidal voyage might now become a legendary feat.

If only those old adventuring companions were still around… would they raise a glass to this epic journey?

Lost in thought, Byron’s anticipation for the distant Talrond grew stronger.

…

Near the center of North Harbor city, in the first-floor hall of the “Far North Exploration and Pioneering Guild Registration Office”—mockingly called the “Adventurers’ Guild” by merchants and travelers—the once bustling service windows were gradually quieting as evening approached.

Suddenly, the ringing of a bell jolted a girl dozing behind one of the registration counters awake. She looked toward the entrance with surprise.

An elderly man, dressed in a black short robe and wearing a black soft cap, his beard and hair pure white, stood there. After glancing around the hall, he strode purposefully toward her.

That black short robe was no longer fashionable in this era. Even the most distinguished mages had embraced trends, and modern ceremonial robes lined with runic layers and mana-conducting threads were rapidly replacing the old, somber, and cumbersome mage robes. These new robes offered the same spellcasting assistance but with a sleek, modern look. Yet for clerks who often dealt with adventurers, the old-fashioned attire was still not uncommon. Its practicality and durability had been proven over time. And adventurers themselves preferred the gear they were used to rather than risking their lives on “fashionable gimmicks.”

But an adventurer of such advanced age was a rarity.

Curious, the girl behind the counter immediately straightened up and, as the old mage approached, offered a polite, rehearsed smile: “Hello, how may I assist you?”

“To register as an adventurer heading to Talrond,” the old mage said in a surprisingly easygoing tone, quite unlike the usual haughty air that seemed permanently etched on the faces of most elderly traditional wizards. “Is it called the Far North Exploration and Pioneering Corps?”

“You want to register as a…” The girl hesitated, her eyes flicking over the old mage twice beneath his short red hair. “Are you sure you want to register as an adventurer? If you’re joining as a scholar for the research and sightseeing group, you can go next door…”

“No, as an adventurer. I’m not senile yet,” the old mage waved his hand dismissively, then glanced suspiciously at the “Adventurer Guidelines” posted beside the registration window. “What’s the matter? Is there a problem? Don’t tell me you have an age limit for registration? I read the promotional materials carefully when I came—there shouldn’t be any restrictions…”

“Well… we really don’t have an upper age limit,” the girl said, a little stunned, speaking almost reflexively. At the same time, a thought struck her—maybe this lack of an age cap was actually a loophole. But then again, who in their seventies or eighties would realistically still be running off to take on quests?

“Good, that makes things easier,” the old mage said, unaware of the girl’s private musings. A pleased expression crossed his face as he reached out toward the window. “Give me a registration form, young lady.”

“Ah… right,” the girl nodded, still a bit flustered. She grabbed a blank form from beside her and, almost out of habit, began explaining the process. “Please fill in your age, place of birth, profession, years of adventuring, and whether you have any team affiliations. Then sign your surname and given name here, and finally trace this rune to leave your mark…”

“Enough, enough, I know the drill. It’s not much different from the old adventurer guild forms.”

The old mage waved her off impatiently before she could finish. He quickly glanced over the form, then grabbed the pen at the window to start filling it out. But soon his brow furrowed as the pen tip scratched the paper, muttering, “Age here… I can’t quite remember. Place of birth, that’s gone too. Profession’s fine. Years adventuring? Can I just put a few centuries?”

The girl behind the window twitched the corner of her mouth as she listened to his muttering. She couldn’t help but wonder if this old man wasn’t really here to register as an adventurer at all, but had wandered off from home due to dementia. Maybe calling security would be more appropriate?

“If you don’t remember, just leave those blank,” she said, trying to be considerate and keep the poor old man calm. “But you should know how to fill in your name, right?”

Her reasoning was simple: if he could provide a name, maybe it would help him find his family.

The old mage frowned slightly, thinking seriously for a moment. Muttering under his breath, he finally wrote down, “I can’t quite recall my surname, though I’m sure I have one. As for my given name… hmm, Modir. There, signed. Is that alright?”

(End of chapter)